


don't look at his nipples

by canniballistics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's cold and they're perky. Still. Don't look.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>There's a cute guy that lives in apartment 3-B, and Bucky happens to think he's pretty hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't look at his nipples

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something silly. Written based off a prompt on tumblr: ‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’. I hope someone out there enjoys.

He's seen the guy around before - it's to be expected of neighbors, especially in an apartment building. Communal laundry in the basement, mailboxes along the wall of the ground floor, the overly friendly landlord who got offended if a tenant didn't attend his Fourth of July Grill-Out up on the roof: there were plenty of opportunities to run into each other. So of course he's seen him around, had more than enough opportunity to, but Bucky'd be damned if he knew what his name was.

When he'd first moved in, he'd driven Bucky insane. Woke up at 5AM every morning to go out for a run, and the walls were just this side of thin enough that he could hear every step of his morning routine, knew the obnoxious song on his alarm. After his run, he'd take a shower, and if Bucky was _really_ (un)lucky, sometimes he'd sing the whole way through. He wasn't bad, but he sure wasn't Pavarotti either. For a light sleeper like Bucky Barnes, if 3-B's morning routine woke him up in the morning, it was a fair assumption that he wasn't going to get back to sleep after that.

They actually came face to face a couple weeks later, when he opened the door to see 3-B waving a stack of mail. "Hi," and Bucky hoped he wasn't staring really stupidly, because the smile on the guy's face was just unfair, "I think some of your mail got mixed up with mine. This is you, right? J. Barnes?" He'd taken the mail, nodded when 3-B was right, and realized once he was back in his own apartment that he'd never actually asked his (apparently pretty hot) neighbor what _his_ name was.

After that, he didn't mind so much when 3-B woke him up in the mornings.

What he did know about 3-B was this: he woke up at 5AM most days, had a love for oldies music, and worked a 9-5 job. Weekdays he got home around 7PM, took another shower, and was in bed by 11PM. Weekends varied, sometimes he'd stay home and others he'd be gone by the time Bucky woke up. He was tall, blond, built, and had eyes he could swear were bluer than the sky.

And when Bucky told his partner about all this over paperwork one day, Natasha simply grinned. "Someone's got a crush. Why don't you talk to him? Need me to set you up?"

Bucky grinned, threw his pen at her. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm pretty capable of securing my own dates. Besides, I don't even know his name."

She rolled her eyes, swiveled the computer monitor to face him. "Barnes, we're detectives. Finding things out is what we _do_. It seriously never occurred to you to look him up in our database?"

"No!" An indignant laugh, and Bucky pushed away from the desk. "Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather have _him_ tell me if he's got any prior convictions. Don't wanna 'ruin the illusion', y'know?" He excused himself to grab a cup of coffee, and by the time he got back, there was an innocent air to Natasha's demeanor that told him she'd done it anyway. The computer monitor was thankfully blank, though, and she just smirked at the look he gave her.

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. I can't wait for you two to hook up."

The opportunity comes about two months after 3-B first showed up at his door. A shrill sound peals through the entire building at 2:30AM, jolting Bucky out of bed and sending him after his badge and gun. He stares around the room wildly for a second before realizing it's just the fire alarm, and there's a groan as he dons a sweater and shuffles out of his apartment. There's a designated area across the street for the building's tenants to collect to so the landlord can take a headcount; it's here that Bucky waits for the OK to reenter the building, letting out a tremendous yawn as he glances around.

His sleepy calm only lasts for a second before he realizes that he's standing just a couple feet away from 3-B. Who happens to be shirtless and is wearing loose sweatpants that he should probably arrest him for. It takes all of Bucky's willpower not to look at him — specifically how low those pants sit on his hips, and how he's pretty sure the guy isn't wearing anything underneath them.

"It's a little brisk, isn't it?" The question surprises him, Bucky's head whipping around to look at him, and 3-B has his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, arms pulled in close to his sides. "Kinda wish I'd brought a sweater, too. Hindsight, though."

_Oh god. Oh god. Don't notice how fucking hard his nipples are. I should arrest myself for voyeurism. Nat would laugh her ass off at me._

There's a strangled noise Bucky hopes comes out more as a laugh as he shifts his gaze down to his feet. "Yeah, October tends to get a little chilly around here." A pause, and then it hits him that he could _not_ be an asshole. Bucky coughs to hide the embarrassment, shrugging out of his sweater and holding it out to 3-B. "Here, wear this."

The look on 3-B's face makes it more than worth the chill that threatens to settle in, but hey, at least he's actually wearing a shirt. (And underwear.) He shakes his head quickly, giving Bucky a little smile that makes his stomach float. "I couldn't. You're too kind for offering, though."

"Just wear it, y'goon. It doesn't make any sense for both of us to get cold." Bucky rolls his eyes, shifts to drop the sweater around his shoulders anyway. "Besides- of the two of us, which one's actually wearin' a shirt?" There's something devious that floods through him at the way 3-B's face colors at that, the way it spreads down his neck to his chest, and Bucky grins. It's a shame to see that broad chest (and those perky goddamn nipples) hidden under his sweater, but he can't deny being at least a little relieved when 3-B zips up, visibly comfortable in the newfound warmth. "See? Way better."

3-B nods, laughing as he settles into the sweater. "You might just be right." He fills it out nicely, the sleeves less than an inch too short, but it looks good on him otherwise. 3-B smiles as he holds out his hand. "I don't think we were ever introduced, by the way. Steve Rogers. It's good to meet you, Mr. Barnes."

His stomach flips when he realizes that 3-B remembered his name – from what, two months ago? – and he smiles as he takes his hand, shakes it firmly. "Call me Bucky. Nice t'meet you too, Steve."

He's going to have to remember to buy Natasha some really nice chocolate the next time he goes to the mall.


End file.
